


i'm out of my head, i'm coming undone.

by trishapocalypse



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Crossdressing, Crossdressing Kink, I'm so sorry, M/M, Rimming, Top!Harry, based on the BSE video just a little bit, i just really wanted this, this is a little self indulgent (like normal), yeah that should be a warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 22:56:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trishapocalypse/pseuds/trishapocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Basically, Harry likes the way Zayn looks in a skirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm out of my head, i'm coming undone.

**Author's Note:**

> Guys, what even. I just think Zayn makes a pretty girl, okay? This is beyond ridiculous. I'm sorry that you're even reading this. Turn back while you can. I've never written top!Harry, so this is what you get... Anyway. I apologize again for all of this; it probably isn't that good. But anyway. This never happened, hastily beta'd, and I love you all. You're the best.
> 
> (Also, this is all for Frida and Tari and Sam, my favorite people and my muses. Love you ladies. :D)
> 
> tumblr: @trishanthemum :)

The thing was, everyone probably thought that Harry would’ve been the girl. And it didn’t really bother him; he didn’t care. Because once Zayn was done with hair and makeup, once Harry saw him in the white blouse and black shirt, legs looking impossibly thin and long, he had to physically hold himself back. After all, they were on set. They still had hours to go. He couldn’t exactly back Zayn up against the wall, hike the skirt over his hips, run his hands over his hairless legs, and fuck him until he couldn’t walk.

(That would be really, _really_ difficult to explain to hair and makeup…)

But it didn’t change the fact that it was precisely what he _wanted_ to do. Not to mention he had his own hair and makeup to worry about. Thankfully his scenes as Marcel had already been completed, so he was out of the sweater vest and his hair was no longer slicked back, and he felt more at home in his skinny jeans and button up. And the look that Zayn— _Veronica_ —was giving him from across the room was enough to ensure him that, yeah, he looked good but _fuck,_ so did Zayn. He could ignore the wig, the drawn on eyebrows, and the makeup because Zayn didn’t _need_ that to look good. Besides, Harry was too distracted by Zayn’s _legs,_ fuck.

Filming music videos was fun, it really was, but it took _forever_ and Harry just wanted to leave. They didn’t get a lot of free time, but Harry knew they had the morning off the next day. And that was enough for him to power through the last six hours of filming before they were allowed to leave. Zayn took the most time getting out of costume, and Harry didn’t bother telling him that he didn’t clean off all of the makeup—it wasn’t a big deal. 

Harry snuck up behind him while Zayn was scrubbing at his face and he wrapped his arms around his thin waist. “Hi, Veronica,” he teased with a grin.

Zayn met his eyes in the mirror and laughed, shaking his head. “The wig’s off and the jig is up, Haz. Vas happenin’?”

“Was thinkin’ I’d come over to yours tonight? Give Lou a bit of time with El and the like,” Harry explained slowly. 

“Only if you’re alright with actually sleeping. We never get to sleep in,” Zayn told him.

Harry smiled, turning his head to press his lips against the side of Zayn’s neck. He nosed along the skin, nipping lightly until it flushed bright red under his lips, and he paused when he reached Zayn’s ear. “Got no plans to sleep in the immediate future,” he whispered, running his tongue along the shell of Zayn’s ear.

Zayn’s eyes fluttered shut and he cleared his throat. He forced his eyes open and met Harry’s again through the mirror. “Yeah? What ya’ got in mind?”

Harry reached upwards and started unbuttoning the blouse that Zayn had been wearing, sliding his hands along the flat planes of his stomach. “Couple of things,” he told him. “Why don’t you finish getting undressed, yeah? Then I’ll take you back to yours and tell you all about these ideas,” he promised, his voice dropping an octave. 

Zayn reached behind him to twist his fingers in Harry’s curls, tugging on them slightly. “Or you could tell me now, yeah?”

Harry laughed, pressing his lips against Zayn’s cheek. “Wouldn’t you rather be surprised?”

“No,” Zayn answered automatically.

“When you’re done, put the clothes in your bag. Bring ‘em home with us,” Harry told him.

Zayn flushed lightly. “You’ve got to be kiddin’ me.”

Harry smiled and shook his head.

“Want me to bring the bra, too?” he muttered sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

“Great idea,” Harry told him. “And don’t forget the heels.”

“Harry, I was kidding—“

“I’m not,” he said quietly. He tiled Zayn’s chin up with a finger and pressed their lips together quickly. When he pulled away, Zayn was leaning closer to him in the seat, and Harry smiled. “Hurry up.”

Zayn watched Harry in the mirror as he walked out of the room and he sighed. Shaking his head, he changed quickly, stuffing the outfit into his backpack and zipping it up. He slid on his jean jacket and Converse, checking his reflection in the mirror quickly. He had a little bit of glue still by his hairline and he tried to get rid of it, but it didn’t really work; he had a little bit of eyeliner still smeared around his eyes, but that was the least of his worries. He slid the strap of the backpack over his shoulder and meandered out of the room where he saw Harry talking with the rest of the guys. 

“C’mon, we haven’t gone out for drinks in ages!” Niall declared.

“We went out last week,” Liam pointed out. “Tomorrow’s our first morning off in a week. Let’s do drinks another time.”

“You lot are no fun,” Louis said with a pout. “What about you, Haz? Zayn? Up for drinks?”

“No thanks, mate. Was gonna leave the flat to you and El tonight,” Harry told him. “I’m gonna kip at Zayn’s.”

“Thanks, mate,” Louis said with a grin. “You’re the best.”

Harry shrugged.

“You in, Zayn? If you say yes, Hazza has to go,” Niall told him.

Harry looked over at Zayn, eyebrows raised. “Want to go out for drinks, Z? Or stay in?” he asked.

Zayn met his eyes and he knew Harry, he knew him very well, and he knew _exactly_ what that look meant. “Probably just gonna stay in,” Zayn said. 

“So boring,” Louis said with an exaggerated eye roll. “Guess we’ll reschedule, Ni.”

Niall frowned. “You lot owe me loads of pints next time we go out,” he decided.

“We’ll talk about that later. We’re gonna head out. See you lot tomorrow,” Harry said with a wave, throwing an arm around Zayn’s shoulders and leading him out of the studio. “Good call on the no drinks thing.”

Zayn shrugged. “Figured you’re impatient enough,” he told him, tossing his bag into the back seat of Harry’s Range Rover before climbing into the passenger’s seat. 

“I’m impatient? Since when?” Harry asked, starting the car.

Zayn laughed. “You’ve always been impatient when it comes to sex.”

Harry paused and found himself nodding. “Fair enough.” He reached over to rest his hand on Zayn’s thigh, fingers tracing the seam along the inside of his leg, as he made the drive towards Zayn’s flat. For once, and probably because it was after midnight, there were no fans loitering outside, and they were able to make their way up the stairs to Zayn’s flat quite easily. Harry toed his boots off by the door as Zayn locked it behind him, tossing his bag on the couch. Zayn shrugged off his jacket and hung it up by the door, kicking off his Converse.

“M’so tired,” Zayn grumbled, falling onto the couch. “You sure we can’t fulfill your little fantasy kink role play whatever in the morning?”

Harry smiled and climbed onto the couch, straddling Zayn’s lap. He pressed their hips together and leaned down, brushing his lips across Zayn’s collarbone, exposed by his white v-neck. Zayn hummed beneath him, eyes slipping shut, hips arching upward involuntarily. “Still wanna wait until the morning?” he asked, voice low and rough as he scraped his teeth along the side of Zayn’s neck.

“You raise a good point,” Zayn muttered, hands gripping Harry’s hips. 

“I know,” he said with a grin. 

“If you want me to change, you’ll have to get up,” Zayn told him.

“Oh, I’m up.”

Zayn laughed loudly as Harry continued to mouth at the side of his neck. “I can tell,” he said, running his fingertips across the bulge in Harry’s skinny jeans.

Harry moaned, nipping at Zayn’s ear, before he stood up. He grabbed Zayn’s hand and pulled him off the couch, pressing their lips together briefly, before picking up the bag and shoving it against his chest. “Go change,” he told him, turning him around and smacking his arse.

Zayn rolled his eyes, still smiling, as he walked off towards the bathroom. 

Harry watched as Zayn shut the door to the bathroom, and he made his way into Zayn’s bedroom. He tugged off his shirt, hanging it off the back of the oversized chair Zayn just _had_ to have, and he pulled off his jeans, setting them by his shirt. His socks and pants joined them next and he rifled through Zayn’s nightstand, pulling out a bottle of lube and a condom, setting them on the mattress. He walked back towards his jeans, pulling his mobile out of his pocket, and he used one of Zayn’s chargers to plug it in, putting in on silent and making sure the alarm was on so they would wake up in time for their lunch interview the following day. 

“Haz?”

“Bedroom,” he called over his shoulder, turning on the lamp by the bed and flipping off the overhead light.

Zayn walked into the room, heels in hand, frowning. “I look like an idiot.”

Harry ran his tongue over his lower lip and shook his head. “Put the shoes on,” he instructed, trailing a hand down his stomach to ghost over his erection, wrapping his fingers tightly around the base.

“If you want to fuck a girl, mate, I’m sure you could find one,” Zayn told him, setting the heels down and sliding into them, unsure.

“I don’t want to fuck a girl,” Harry replied, giving Zayn a once over, and shit. Zayn looked even better without the wig, the makeup, and the glasses. His legs were still smooth and long underneath the black skirt, his erection pressed against the front awkwardly, and the white blouse halfway unbuttoned, exposing the tattoos on his chest. “I want to fuck you.”

Zayn shrugged and glanced down at his chest. “Didn’t put the bra on. Don’t think I could fill it right anyway.”

Harry laughed and walked over to Zayn, grabbing his hips and crushing their mouths together. Zayn wrapped his arms around Harry’s neck, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. Harry’s fingertips pressed at the base of his spine, their hips moving together, and he grabbed the fabric of Zayn’s blouse, tugging it out of the skirt. Zayn’s tongue slid across his lips, over his teeth, as Harry tried to unbutton the shirt. He pulled away from Zayn’s mouth with a groan. “Bloody—this shouldn’t be so difficult,” he grumbled.

Zayn smiled, pushing Harry’s hands away. He tugged the shirt over his head, tossing it aside, and he walked Harry backwards towards the bed. “Better?” he asked.

“Loads,” Harry said, sitting down on the mattress as Zayn straddled his lap. Zayn pressed their lips together, his tongue easily finding Harry’s; the taste familiar, and he eased Harry flat on his back. Harry’s hands found the back of Zayn’s knees, palming the flesh, dipping under the hem of the skirt. A moan slipped past Zayn’s lips as Harry’s fingers teased the inside of his thighs, inching higher.

Zayn broke the kiss, rutting desperately against Harry’s hips, grinding their erections together, gasping against Harry’s neck. “Harry—“ he panted, reaching down to wrap his fingers around the base of Harry’s cock, jerking him off slowly, smearing beads of precome over the black fabric of his skirt, and that shouldn’t have been so fucking hot but it _was._

Harry fingers dipped over the curve of Zayn’s arse, ghosting across his hole, and he smiled as Zayn’s breath hitched in his throat. 

“Harry, please—“

“Please, what?” Harry asked, sliding his fingers down past Zayn’s balls, over the base of his cock, slipping across the thick vein before thumbing the head.

Zayn gasped again, rutting against Harry. “Harry, just—“

“Tell me what you want,” he repeated, reaching up cup the back of Zayn’s neck with his left hand.

Zayn leaned down, capturing Harry’s lips in a bruising kiss. He framed Harry’s face with his hands, the kiss turning rough, messy, tongues sliding together. He bit down on Harry’s lip when the tip of his thumb pressed against his hole, and he whimpered. “Please, Harry—“

“Yes?”

“Want your mouth, your fingers, your cock, please—just want _you,_ Harry,” he rambled.

“Mmm, I can do that,” Harry told him with a grin. “Hands and knees, love.”

Zayn nodded, climbing off of Harry and resting his weight on his forearms. He felt Harry climb between his legs, grabbing his knees and angling them further apart. Harry’s hands slid up the back of Zayn’s thighs, tugging the skirt with it. He hiked the skirt over Zayn’s hips, exposing his arse, and he leaned in, pressing his lips to the back of Zayn’s thighs, nipping at the soft skin. Zayn pushed back against him, feeling Harry’s hot breath ghosting across his hole, and he groaned. “Harry—“

Harry’s fingers gripped Zayn’s cheeks, spreading them apart, and he leaned in, licking a stripe across his hole. He felt Zayn shudder beneath him, feeling him go pliant as he worked his tongue over his hole, dipping in just enough to cause a slew of moans and curses to leave Zayn’s lips. Harry tilted his head, licking across Zayn’s balls and over his hole before slipping one finger inside of him.

“Christ, Harry,” Zayn gasped, arms giving out. His fingers twisted in the sheets as his cheek pressed against the mattress.

Harry nosed against Zayn’s hole, pressing a kiss to the sensitive skin. Zayn shuddered beneath him again as Harry licked into him, sliding another finger into him to spread him open, his tongue and fingers working in tandem to get him loose. 

Zayn cursed against the sheets, Urdu mixing with English, pushing back against Harry. “Harry—More—Need, need more—“

Harry pulled away, kissing Zayn’s lower back, before sitting back on his haunches. “Turn over.”

Zayn groaned, flipping over onto his back, chest rising and falling heavily. He watched as Harry reached for the heels, tugging them off his feet and tossing them over his shoulder. Zayn reached for Harry’s shoulders, pulling him down and pressing their lips together. Harry nipped at Zayn’s lower lip, reaching blindly for the lube and coating his fingers before pressing two against his hole. Zayn pushed back against him, Harry’s fingertips barely pressing inside, and he moaned. “Harry—“

Harry smiled, slipping two fingers back inside of Zayn. Their kisses turned hungry, rougher than before, as Harry slid a third finger deep inside of him. Zayn’s back arched, fingers tangling in Harry’s curls. He panted against Harry’s mouth, tongue sliding across his lips, and Harry quickly pulled his fingers away.

Zayn whimpered, pressing their lips together again as Harry pushed the skirt over his hips, his erection springing free. Zayn instinctively wrapped his fingers around himself, tugging at the foreskin and sliding over his leaking tip. 

“Don’t have too much fun without me,” Harry warned, reaching over for the condom and tearing it open. He slid it on, slicking himself up with lube, before he grabbed Zayn’s wrists, pressing them back against the mattress. The head of his cock nudged at Zayn’s hole, barely slipping inside.

Zayn’s back arched and he cursed, pushing back against Harry. “Harry—“

“You’re so goddamn pretty, Zayn,” Harry whispered, gripping the base of his cock and pressing it against Zayn’s hole, sliding in slowly.

Zayn gasped, feeling his cheeks flush as Harry praised him. He jerked his wrists free of Harry’s hold and grabbed his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh.

“So pretty, Christ,” Harry repeated, pushing in slowly until he bottomed out. Zayn’s nails dug in harder, legs wrapping around Harry’s waist. 

“Harry,” Zayn panted, hips rising off the bed as Harry thrust back into him.

Harry gripped Zayn’s hips, pulling them further off the bed until his arse was resting against his thighs. He pushed the fabric of the skirt up higher, towards his navel, and he watched as Zayn’s abs contracted with each thrust. Zayn’s golden eyes slipped shut, lips parting as Harry fucked him harder. 

The angle was perfect and the head of Harry’s cock nudged against Zayn’s prostate with each thrust. Zayn whimpered as Harry rocked his hips, slowing and deepening his thrusts. Zayn dug his heels into the base of Harry’s spine, rocking in time with him as he wrapped his fingers around his cock again. 

Harry leaned down, resting his weight on his forearms as he mouthed messily against Zayn’s collarbones, over the ink smattered there. “So pretty, love, can’t stand it,” he whispered against Zayn’s tanned skin, nipping at the side of his neck.

“S’close,” Zayn groaned, fisting himself faster, thumb swiping at the head of his cock and gathering the precome, using it to slick his movements. “Harry—“

“Gonna come for me, love? Look so pretty when you come,” Harry told him, holding Zayn’s thighs apart as he started to fuck him faster.

“Yeah,” he whimpered, back arching as Harry stroked his prostate with each thrust. He came suddenly, spilling over his fist with a strain of curses in Urdu and Harry’s name escaping his lips. His body fell pliant against the mattress as Harry fucked him through his orgasm, his body oversensitive and tingling.

Harry gripped Zayn’s hips hard enough to leave bruises and he bit his lip as he came, releasing inside of Zayn, before collapsing against his chest. His breathing was heavy and he waited for it to even out before he carefully slipped out of Zayn, tying off the condom and tossing it towards the rubbish bin near his nightstand. 

Zayn wrapped his arms around Harry’s back, pressing a kiss to his clavicle. “Fuck.”

Harry laughed, tugging the skirt over Zayn’s hips, palming the sensitive skin of his thighs. 

Zayn hissed and tried to push his hands away. “M’not ready for another round so quickly; m’not like you, mate,” he told him with a grin.

“I s’pose I can give you a bit of a lie in tomorrow until you’re ready for round two,” Harry mused thoughtfully, slipping his hand out of the skirt to wrap around Zayn’s waist. He rested his head against his chest, hearing his heartbeat slowly return to normal.

“Bless. You’re so kind,” Zayn muttered facetiously, trailing his fingers against Harry’s spine. 

Harry hummed, kissing the center of Zayn’s chest quickly. “I try.”

“Got a bit of a thing for men in skirts?” Zayn asked, smiling.

“Nah, just got a bit of a thing for you,” he told him, looking up at him from under his eyelashes with a wide grin. “Can’t help that anything you’ve got on is sexy.”

Zayn felt himself blush and he rolled his eyes, tugging at the duvet until it covered both of their bodies. “Just shut up and sleep.”


End file.
